


Favour for a Friend

by GhostCrumpet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon divergentish, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake Relationship, Stuff, WW2, pretending to be a couple, reposting an old fic that got bahhhhreeeted, whomp whomp, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: The legendary fic is back.Steve comes back to his change room after another lackluster performance trying to rouse the men on the front. He finds one of the smallest of the chorus girls hiding there, with a big problem...** So this was a oneshot and now it's a full-length story, with many chapters planned. Whoops!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YAYAYAYYAYA. I finally got around to reposting this <3

Exhaustion settled over him like a wet blanket, and he slunk back to his change room for the third time that day feeling defeated.

No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t winning over the troops with his dramatic script or his tight shorts. It had been obvious to him before he’d even stepped on stage that the girls would be the ones to perk the men up, not him. Still, he wasn’t one to argue with an order from his betters. Weeks, they’d been at this, almost two months now and he was getting to the point he did want to argue. Very strongly.

He kicked shut the door to his meagre quarters after entering them and froze.

Curled up in the middle of his bed was little Darcy Lewis, one of the younger dancers and normally a spot of light and brilliance for the whole performance crew. She usually had him bound up in stitches with her pranks and jokes. Now though, she was crying her eyes out, bundled around his pillow.

“Oh!” She looked up and wiped at her eyes furiously. “I’m sorry, Ste- I mean, Captain Rogers.” She swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She was hiccuping her words, her makeup turning her look from svelte little starlet to waterlogged raccoon. She looked painfully young, and more than a little lost.

“Miss Lewis.” He wasn’t sure why she was in his room, but given her look of surprise she hadn’t expected him. So then, not waiting for him like some of the bolder women… he cleared his throat. “Can I… can I be of assistance?”

She lifted her chin and looked at him evenly, and he saw the fight in her expression as she warred between pretending nothing was wrong and spilling over with whatever pained her.

He palmed off his helmet and gave her the look that used to work so well on Bucky’s little sister.

Darcy crumpled and collapsed forward on the edge of his bed, sobbing helplessly into her hands. Fearing for her safety he lurched forward, if she was this upset something terrible must have happened to her, and he wondered for a moment if one of the men had…

“Darcy,” he said in his quietest, most soothing voice, and he approached her slowly before sitting down next to her. He produced a handkerchief from one of his belt pouches and reached over to tip her head up, wiping her tears away. Her lower lip trembled. “What happened?” Maybe a fight with one of the other girls? He’d mediated a few of those, especially over ripped stockings since the damn things were in such demand and so rationed now that they were overseas in the theatre of war.

“He said he loved me.” Her blue eyes were watery and wide in her thin face and he cursed at the elderly madame who was supposed to be chaperoning the younger girls so they didn’t fall in with the soldiers. Darcy was a bit of a mischief, and had obviously found her way around the curfews set to keep her out of trouble.

“Ah, well…” he cleared his throat and then wrapped a tentative arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She melted right into him, clinging tight and even though she wasn’t crying anymore, he could feel the shake of her tears right below the surface. “Need me to go punch somebody in the face for you?”

A full-out shiver ran through her.

“Maybe you could just punch me in the belly,” she whispered and he froze up. Oh god no. The chorus director was strict… about the girls who fell by the wayside, in more ways than one. If a girl couldn’t keep up, she was cut. If a girl… got herself into trouble, she was cut without her backpay and let go wherever they were, without means to get home- his mind still reeled around at the thought of some serviceman taking little Darcy back to his tent and then not doing right by her. Whoever it had been had taken advantage of her without protection, and with no care for what would happen to her if he got her pregnant.

“Did you… does he… know?” He tried not to grit his teeth. He knew these things happened. His mother had been a nurse. Even before the war, men cut loose, sometimes on their married wives and multiple children. And girls who fell into shadow without a ring were sent to special homes for a time until they could be brought back into proper society, if they ever were brought back at all.

First he had to solve the immediate problem of the man who’d wronged her. Then he’d have to figure out how to spare her the wrath of the chorus director. She’d be left in the Italian countryside with no way to get home, and that meant a certain death for her. The thought left him cold and bitter at the machine that was forcing him up on stage night after night.

“N-no,” she coughed out and then took the handkerchief from him and blew her nose. “I was gonna… gonna tell him, but I found him making up t-t-to M-Marcie and I-“ She dissolved into tears again, and he pulled her closer, ignoring the tempting rose-water scent of her hair as he rocked her like he would’ve any of the young girls in his old neighborhood when they’d fallen and gotten themselves scraped.

This was more than a scrape, for sure, but it could be treated the same way with a hug and a kiss. And a miracle.

“Man like that doesn’t deserve your time, Darcy, not a minute of it, and certainly not your tears,” he said into the top of her head as she half-crawled into his lap seeking comfort. He rubbed her back in slow circles and then sighed. An awkward idea popped into his mind, but one that… that would do well enough, at least until they got back to America. “Darcy, I… I don’t want you to feel pressured by this-“

She let out a snort and gripped onto him tighter.

“No pressure at all, Captain,” she drawled with her familiar sarcasm right below the surface of her voice. He swallowed hard.

“How’s about you and me make a go of it, until we get you back home safe and sound,” he said it all at once. It sounded so stupid, out of his head, but it was the only way, unless… “Unless you’re thinking he might come around to the idea…”

“I’m not going back to that rat bastard,” she spat and then looked up at him with a wariness in her eyes he didn’t like seeing directed at him. “D’you really mean that, Steve that’s… that’s kind of a big sacrifice for you. No one would believe it, not you, going with me and I’ve not got long before I don’t fit into my costume and…”

He shushed her with a thumb to her lips.

“You seen yourself in the mirror, Darce?” He raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed hard, then looked away. “What’s so strange about a poor fella from Brooklyn like me wanting to have a pretty girl from California as his home comfort, then?”

If anything, she blushed harder at the thought.

“Just as a favour, right? Playing house? N-nothing more?” There was a hint of yearning in her voice and he wondered if maybe she’d thought about him that way in the past, before getting tangled up with some lousy flat-footed bastard. He’d certainly not been blind to her charms, both physical and personality-wise. The idea that she’d be his, at least until he got her home safe, well…

“Be better to sleep in here than out with the girls in that tent,” he offered quietly. She shivered again and then nodded.

“You’d really do that for me?” She asked, looking up at him with such hope and fear that his mouth went dry. He’d do it for her, take her as his war-bride and make a bad situation easy for her. Hell, she wouldn’t be able to dance anymore, but no one would point her out as having given up her virginity early… and she’d be safe. Safe as he could make her.

He ran his thumb over her lower lip and then smiled.

“Let me go call the priest,” he said and pulled away.

“Wait!” She grabbed his hand and he looked at her, confused. She reached up and planted one on him, mouth warm on his. Her lips were salty with tears, and he had to hold back the groan that fought to escape his lungs as she pressed her lush, firm curves into his chest. Suddenly he was dizzy with his own stupidity. How the hell was he supposed to get an inch of sleep at night with her laying beside him for the next few months?

She pulled away and stared at him, her eyes bright.

“Just wanted it to look real when we say the vows,” she mumbled, two spots of bright pink in her cheeks.

“Uh… right,” he said, and then got to his feet as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you… set yourself to rights, and I’ll meet you back here in say, thirty?”

She nodded and he patted her on the shoulder, before making his way to the door. Only one thought really plagued him as he stalked through the pissing rain and the mud to where the chaplain tent was.

 Where the hell was he going to get a ring in the backwoods of Italy?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Night

She was so soft, so pliant under him. He had his arm braced on the mattress beside her ribs. Both of her hands gripping the metal frame of their camp bed above her head as he worked into her.

“Beautiful girl,” he said into her throat as he kissed her there, savoring the salt-taste of her skin and the flutter of her pulse.

“Captain,” she gasped, because try as he might he couldn’t get her to call him Steve, even though he was her husband now. “Oh, Captain I’m.. oh.. I’m…” She writhed under him, her voice breathy and hoarse as she shuddered around him. “Captain!”

“Captain!”

“CAPTAIN!”

He sat up with a start, gripping the blankets to his chest. Beside him, Darcy Lew- no, his wife Darcy Rogers, made a low stirring noise and grumbled in her sleep. The air was cool and damp around them, it hadn’t quit raining since their short ceremony inside the empty mess tent, with Peggy as a witness.

Now in the dim light of their tent, his mother’s gold wedding band glinted loosely on Darcy’s hand. Her fingers were so small they’d needed a string to wrap around the band to thicken it and keeping it from slipping. Just one more reminder of how young she was, how unprepared she was to be a wife, a mother. Guilt and anger pricked at him. She still wouldn’t tell him who the serviceman was who’d knocked her up. He huffed out a breath and thought about settling back down to sleep again.

Just as he was about to lay down his groin throbbed and he was sharply brought back to the very inappropriate dream he’d been having. Wife or not, he hadn’t done more than give her a sweet kiss on the lips to seal their vows. Even if they were sharing a bed for appearance’s sake, she was sleeping in a thick flannel shift edged with lace that Peggy had passed to him later in the evening after their wedding ceremony.

Peggy was… Peggy was a godsend. She’d taken one look at him, bedraggled from the rain and gasping out of breath from the run he’d done clear across the camp and had yanked him inside. When he’d laid out his wishes, she’d fished the box of his personal effects of value from the camp’s safe and handed him his mother’s ring. Then she’d set about gathering a few other things his new wife would require, all without a word of judgement. Given that Darcy wasn’t going to be spending most of her time in costume anymore, she’d needed actual clothing and thankfully Peggy had provided. He sure as hell didn’t have the first clue on what to get a woman to wear from the supply tent.

He hadn’t wanted to ask if she suspected his reasons for suddenly turning up on her tent’s stoop engaged, but from the odd look she’d given Darcy during the ceremony when the girl hadn’t been looking… well, he figured Pegs wasn’t exactly an idiot. Plus she’d grabbed him by the arm afterwards and given him a talk about the circles of hell and which one he’d end up in if he dared touch the girl, regardless of the vows he’d taken.

Steve looked down at Darcy and didn’t have to hide the smile that spread across his face as she moved closer to him, seeking out his heat in her sleep. She’d commented how nice it was to share the blankets as she fell asleep, safe and unmolested in his bed (don’t worry about  _that_ , Peggy, he'd thought).

“Captain!” A voice outside their tent rang out, drunk and hazy. That's what'd dragged him from his dreaming.

His head jerked up and Darcy gasped, her eyes flying open.

“Shhh, sweetheart, stay in bed,” he said, putting a palm over her head of waving curls. She looked at him with sleepy eyes and then curled up tight under the blankets as he shifted off the mattress.

“C’mon back soon,” she mumbled, “s’cold.”

“Uh huh.” He hitched his pants up higher on his hips, adjusted his rather insistent erection with his palm, and then grabbed his robe so he could wrap it around his bare shoulders. He stuck his head out the flap of his tent and glared at the soldier who’d woken him-

Only to find himself being hauled out into the rain by a bunch of rowdy soldiers. Drunk, rowdy soldiers. Rain pelted him, and his bare feet squelched through the mud. He panicked for a moment, remembering a time when the weather and the cold would’ve stuck him in bed for a week. Pushing the fear away, the serum would take care of any potential illness, he wrestled himself out of the grip of one very enthusiastic soldier who was clinging to him.

“Here’s to Captain America and his wife, the little Missus America!” The man crowed and the rest all cheered. He died a little inside as another one yelled out  _Dance, Captain!_

“Thanks men, but if it’s all the same, I’d rather get back to my bed,” he said, edging towards the tent’s entrance. A chorus of jeers that were not appropriate for his young wife to hear followed him.

“Let’s see the pretty girl who stole America’s heart,” hollered the man closest to him, and Steve found himself jostled as one of them shoved past him to get at the tent doors. A burst of rage exploded in his chest and he reached for the man, yanking him back.

“Watch it,” he snarled, spinning the man in his grip. The soldier stumbled and then lunged for him, swinging wide with a clenched fist. Steve dodged the hit, and grabbed him, twisting around in the mud and then let go. The man went flying, tumbling into his drunk friends who were too slow to react. He barreled into them as Steve huffed out an angry breath.

“Get back to your tents,” Steve barked the words as rain dripped down his face, catching in his eyelashes as he surveyed the group of drunks. They weren’t fit to wear the uniform, and anger burnt up his spine and through his tensed muscles. He was saved from further acts of violence as Peggy Carter herself, along with a group of very angry and very sober officers descended on the lot of them like a load of bricks. He gave her a hard, if grateful smile, and ducked back inside the tent.

Darcy was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide in her face as she watched him fasten the flap and then drag a heavy trunk over and onto the fabric ends so they wouldn’t be interrupted again. He melted a little on the inside at the sight of her half-terrified, half-trusting expression. Like she thought he’d hung the moon, and would’ve fought off twenty men to protect her. Well, he might’ve. The fighting, not hanging the moon.

“S’alright Darcy,” he said as he pulled his robe off and searched for a towel to wipe the mud off of his bare feet. When he got back into bed she sighed and settled up against him, her back pressing into his side as he lay staring at the ceiling. The ruckus outside was quieting down, and he listened to her breathing. He was sure she’d fallen back asleep when she moved restlessly against him.

“It’s gonna be hell in the mess tomorrow,” she said in the darkness. He shifted his hand over and found hers under the blanket, squeezing it tight.

“I can bring you something to eat here if you like,” he offered. He felt her shrug and then she rolled over, snuggling up to him, her face finding the spot between the mattress and his shoulder to hide in.

“I’m good,” she said, “better face it tomorrow right off and get the it all over with then draw it out. They’ll only be worse if I disappear for a week, making’ jokes about how I couldn’t walk after a night in your bed-“

She inhaled sharply and he could almost feel her blush radiating from her cheek against his arm.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to… make an off-colour comment I… uh,” she fumbled over the words until he turned over and pulled her against him in a gentle hug.

“Nothing wrong with a little honesty, I think a man and a wife can have those kinds of discussions in private company, can’t they now,” he said, and tried to clear off the image of what he’d have to do to her in order to render her immobile… probably similar enough to his dream that had been interrupted. He hugged her tight. “Just go to sleep, dawn’ll be here soon enough. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get the tent moved into the officer area. They won’t try that again when it’ll mean laps and push-ups for days.”

She made a small noise, somewhere between a sigh and a sob, and then she was crying. Dismay unfurled inside of him as he pulled her against his chest as best he could.

“Darcy, it’s fine, you’re safe. I promise I won’t let them close to you again.”

She made another wet sound in the back of her throat and plastered herself to him. Her face ended up buried in his neck right under his ear and she shivered.

“No one’s ever… I mean to say, no one’s ever cared to… look out for me like that,” she said, her voice husky with tears. “I’m sorry, don’t want you to think all I ever do is cry and weep like a-”

He hushed her with a kiss to her forehead.

“I know you’re a tough little nut, Darce,” he said as he shifted her to get more comfortable. The rain was picking up outside, and the wind plucked at the corners of their tent. “Besides, it’s your wedding day. Aren’t girls supposed to spend their special day dissolving into tears?” He gently teased her and was rewarded with a watery giggle and then a snort.

“M’older sister was a mess on her wedding day,” she said after a moment. Then she sighed and he felt all the tension run out of her muscles. “M’kay. Gonna sleep now. Big work to do tomorrow, bein’ Missus America and all.”

With that she was out, her breathing evening and Steve found himself finally relaxing in the shared warmth of their bed. He’d knock some heads together in the morning. After he’d let himself sleep in, maybe. She was right, it was certainly nice to have someone to share the blankets with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I'll be putting up more chapters on a regular basis and then finishing this!


	3. Chapter 3

He wished she’d taken him up on his offer of breakfast in bed. The next morning dawned clear, bright, and rain-free but the muck was still up to their knees. He’d ducked out to give her some privacy to change, and helped lay down some boards over the ground to make walking around from tent to tent easier.

When he returned, he’d worked up a sweat, and Darcy put her hands over her eyes so he could do a quick basin wash up.

“Y’know I’ve seen it all before, not just with Mi- my, uh, I got brothers,” she said as she perched on the edge of the bed, much recovered from her weeps the day before. Her tone bordered on cheeky even, and he shot a look at her that she couldn’t see. Clever and sharp as she was, she’d still almost let slip the name of the bastard who’d gotten her into trouble. For a moment he let his gaze linger. She was dressed in a plain deep navy gown, a little loose on her because she hadn’t had time to take it in yet. Still, he was convinced that she’d be damn beautiful in a potato sack. He wasn’t over the dream he’d had about her, although he was doing his best to put it out of his mind. There was no need to announce his attraction to her via an inappropriate erection. She'd had enough of that out of men.

“Y’done yet?” She swung her feet back and forth under the edge of the bed as he yanked his trousers up with a sigh.

“Yes, yes, I’m done.” He turned to the small mirror hanging down from the cupboard that served them for a closet and pulled out his razor. In an instant she was beside him, bowl of warm water in one hand and towel in the other. Suddenly morning in the camps looked like they were going to be a lot brighter. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, his voice still a sleepy rumble in his chest as he lathered himself up.

Darcy wrinkled her nose as a bit of foam flicked off his fingers onto the collar of her dress, but she didn’t move to brush it away.

“Please. Mama told me I was too much of a loud mouth to ever get married, so this might be the only chance I’ve got to play at it.” She grinned up at him, seemingly not offended by her mother’s frank assessment of her. If he was honest, he thought her mother didn’t know anything about what a man wanted in a woman, but then she was from an older generation. Darcy would make some gentleman very happy one day. The thought of that made his heart squeeze strangely, and he shoved it away as he wiped off the last of the shaving cream from his face.

“You ready?” He asked as he turned to her. She was already shrugging into a long coat, and she smirked a little.

“And they say girls take a long time to get out the door,” she teased him. He didn’t have an answer to that, so he just shook his head as she snickered.

Even with the boards laid down he still had to keep a firm grip on Darcy’s hand as they walked to prevent her from going over in the mud.

The noise of the mess found them before they found it, and when he walked in Darcy was immediately tugged out of his grip by a bunch of the girls who whirled and chattered like a flock of birds. He found himself stumbling off to sit down with the General who gave him a gimlet stare over his cup of coffee.

“So,” General Phillips took a long drink and then set his mug down as Steve got settled on the bench. He looked over to where Darcy sat, her hand stretched out in front of her as the girls looked at the ring and then peeked at him before bursting into laughter. His cheeks burnt a hard crimson and he sighed. A snapping sound made his head jerk up to find Phillips was clicking his fingers at him. “Eyes up, Son. So I hear you’ve taken a wife.”

“Ah, you could say that… Sir,” Steve said and then coughed, clearing his throat. Someone set a plate down in front of him, a heap of bacon and sausages, more than the men were rationed. He cast a long glance down the table to see if any of them had noticed. He’d never been much of an eater, but since getting big his stomach always felt like it was halfway to empty. Seemed like today, most of the stares were directed at his new wife than him, and he tried to ignore them as best he could.

“Well, there’s a few… things, we need to discuss regarding that in private later, Rogers but for now,” Phillips paused and then sighed, taking another long sip of his coffee and lifting up some paperwork that lay on the table, speckled with grease from his breakfast. “Just remember, a happy wife equals a happy life.”

Steve had taken an overly large gulp of scrambled eggs and coughed at the General’s deadpan delivery, nearly inhaling the hot mouthful. He choked for a full minute and finally gasped for air, then swallowed down a full cup of coffee not minding the burn as it sloshed down the back of his throat.

“Uh, thank you, Sir, I guess.” He forked up a more polite mouthful so he wouldn’t get caught out like that again.

“Pretty girl you got there, though. I had thought maybe you and Carter would…” Phillips trailed off as he stared somewhere behind Steve’s head.

“Rogers and I would what, General Phillips?”

Steve turned and he was fairly certain he was doing a good impression of a gaping fish. Peggy stood right behind him, an amused smile on her face.

“I’d like to borrow the Captain for a minute, if you don’t mind General?” She tilted her head to the side, her lips curling up further. Steve turned back to the General who was going an amusing shade of pink, and then Steve decided that retreat was the better part of valour and scrambled to his feet.

“How can I help you, Miz Carter,” he asked as she wrapped an arm through his and lead him away to the front of the mess, presumably where they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I’ve made you an appointment for her with the doctor,” she said, her expression softer than he would have expected. The two of them, maybe they would’ve been something, or so he’d thought but…

“The doctor?” He glanced over to where Darcy sat, now finally being left to eat although the girls looked like they were chatting her ears off. About him, probably. Good lord.

“She’ll need a prenatal exam, of course, and the continued care of a physician but… Steven, I’m sure you’ll both agree a war zone is no place for a pregnant woman even if she is your wife.” Peggy sighed as he just stared at her mutely. He hadn’t even thought of… any of that, really.

“I, uh, thank you.” He swallowed hard to get the lump down in his throat. “Well, we won’t be here for very long, I wouldn’t think, back in America soon enough and uh,” he stumbled over his words as she watched him with an odd expression. “What?” He finally asked after a moment of awkward silence descended between them.

“She’s just very… young,” Peggy said, and then bit her lower lip, the stark white of her teeth sinking into the crimson flesh. “I had… I had expected perhaps a bit better of you than to be careless with a girl in that way.”

He felt his face flush and then he looked down at the ground for a moment before muttering,

“It… it’s not mine. The baby isn’t. I haven’t, anything, with her… but you said that- at the wedding? I didn’t think that you thought- Peggy, no.” He looked back up at her. She’d crossed her arms under her chest and had raised an eyebrow.

“Not yours? I admit, at first I thought you were being heroic as usual, admirable really but then last night outside the tent with the soldiers, in just your trousers, honestly Steven.”

He coughed.

“No, I didn’t… I wouldn’t. Peg,” he huffed out a breath as he was at a loss for words. She sighed.

“Alright, relax, I believe you.” She reached up a hand and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and for a moment their eyes met, and he saw a hint of regret in her expression before it vanished behind a smile. “You’re doing a good thing as you always do. Just keep after her to go to that appointment and get confirmation of… everything. Alright?”

Feeling chastised and like he’d somehow escaped a thorough brow beating, he just nodded and then slunk back over to where the General was finishing off the heap of sausages still left on Steve’s plate. He couldn’t bring himself to protest as he levered himself down onto the bench with a sigh.

“Your little woman’s no Carter, but then,” the General eyed him as he forked another sausage away from Steve, “looking at you I’m not sure you’d last five minutes hitched to that wagon no matter how big your muscles happen to be.”

Steve took a sip of his coffee, cooler now, and could only miserably agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! :) It makes my day when you do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wife, Happy Life.

So far his first day of married life had been one knock on the chin after another. There had been a blow-out with the chorus director after breakfast, who didn’t take it too kindly for one of his girls having up and married the star of his show. Words like ‘young tart’ and ‘dereliction of duty’ and ‘lack of commitment to the arts’ had been tossed around, making Steve’s heart run faster than normal. The talk had devolved into a bunch of back and forth shouting until Darcy had nearly decked the little man and Steve had needed to band an arm around her waist and haul her off before she got herself into further trouble.

Peggy had just made a very amused comment to him that maybe he’d finally met his match. In the end they’d all come to the agreement that Darcy would continue to perform for another month or two until they returned to the United States, at which point she’d be replaced by one of the backups that were on the road doing a modified version of the show and raising money for bonds.

Steve didn’t much like the idea of her exerting herself like that when she was in a delicate condition. When he’d suggested that he could talk to the director on her behalf again, maybe spare her the work, she’d just glared at him, flopped over on the bed, and ignored him for the rest of the afternoon.

By dinnertime she still wasn’t talking to him, so he wrapped up a plate from mess and brought it back with him to their tent. One of the cooks had taken pity on him, and tucked in a few extras ‘for your little woman, as tiny as she is, she’ll need every extra bite to keep up with you!’, and he was grateful he hadn’t run into anyone he knew. His face felt like a tomato the entire walk home.

“Darcy,” he called when he was a few feet away. “Brought you something to eat, sweetheart-” He swept the door of the tent open and froze in his tracks.

Darcy was leaning back on the bed, propped up on her elbows in an effort to get away from the young man looming over her. The man had his hand fisted in the front of her shirt, and a dark expression on his face. A hot wave of rage rolled over Steve as he stood there, then he dropped the plate he was carrying and crossed the tent in one giant stride.

“Steve!” Darcy’s voice was a half-sob and seeing him seemed to spur her into action. She cracked her leg off the bed, knee connecting with a solid  _thud_ right between the man’s thighs. He let out a gasping, whining groan and dropped to the ground. Darcy scrambled off the bed and around him, darting to hide up against the side of the cupboard as Steve leaned to haul the man off the ground.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve’s voice was a growl in his own ears as he dragged him to the front of the tent and then outside. Steve threw him, physically hurled him through the air and watched the man, no, boy, still cupping his genitals as he flew and then landed with a painful crack. He would’ve chased after him, if Darcy hadn’t gotten her hands around his arm.

“No, Steve, don’t!” She yanked hard on him, and he turned on her. When she went pale and glared up hard at him he realized he was glowering at her. He inhaled and closed his eyes, letting his expression melt into something a little less… threatening.

“Who is he?” He asked, before swinging his head back to look at the boy squirming in the mud. The kid groaned and then pushed himself up on one forearm.

“Nobody. He doesn’t matter, cause he ‘aint comin’ back here,” she spat, and for a moment Steve wondered if she was going to launch herself at the downed soldier and start pummeling him. He had half a mind to let her if she did. Whatever had been going on in his tent didn’t like friendly, or remotely consensual. He shook Darcy off and walked over to the boy, snagging him by the wrist and hauling him to his feet.

“You wanna tell me why you were in my tent, son?” He asked, putting all the emphasis on the noun. He towered over the kid by at least six inches, and a shiver of anger boiled in the pit of his gut… that still meant the young man had too many inches over on Darcy. If he hadn’t arrived when he had, if he’d been a few minutes later...

“Darcy, she,” the boy gulped and then twisted his wrist, trying to get out of Steve’s grip.

“Missus Rogers to you,” Steve boomed. The boy faltered and then wilted under Steve’s glare.

“She was my girl, and then I heard that she got-”

Behind Steve, Darcy laughed, a short and sharp bitter noise, cutting the young man off.

“I was never your girl, Jonesy, I told you the first night you came up to me after the show that I wasn’t like that and I wasn’t gonna go with the likes of you.”

Steve couldn’t see Darcy, but the waves of ice radiating off of her voice told him enough. The boy was mistaken and clearly thought that he could bully a now-married woman into… whatever. He reached into the boy’s shirt and pulled out his tags.

“Private Jones,” he read and then dropped the tags, letting them clink against the boy’s chest. “I say you best get back to your own tent, and stick close to it for the next few days. If I see you around here again, I’ll hold you while the Missus teaches you what the meanin’ of the word no is, since you’ll be screaming it loud enough for the rest of camp to hear.” He tightened his grip on Jones for a moment and then let him go hard enough that the boy stumbled backwards.

“Sir, yessir,” he said, not even daring to look at Darcy where she stood behind Steve, before he bolted off. Steve huffed out another breath and then turned to Darcy.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing?” He asked, feeling mildly confused under the thin film of anger that still ate at him. “You had a lot of admirers I’m gonna need to be fighting off?”

Darcy wobbled a little where she stood and then looked away. She shrugged one shoulder.

“First time away from home, is all, the attention wasn’t on Diana for once and… I guess it was kinda nice,” she said, her voice in a slight sulk. Diana had to be her older, now married, sister. He sighed and raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing the spot of tension between his brows down to the bridge of his nose.

“And you went wild.  Not that I blame you, can’t be easy to have been cooped up like nice young ladies are kept.” He cleared his throat. “Not that it’s my business but did you… with him?”

Darcy’s head whipped up and she glared at him, before she spun on her heel and marched back into the tent. He groaned internally.

“Happy wife, happy life,” he muttered to himself, before tagging after her. “Darcy, Darcy I didn’t mean it that way I just-” He stopped short just inside the tent. She was throwing her things into a duffel bag with force, getting a few of his things in the mix. “Darcy, stop, c’mon,” he pleaded, sending a brief prayer up to the good Lord to give him patience.

“You think I’m a whore,” her voice was edged with hurt, “and I appreciate what you tried t’ do for me here, Rogers, I really do but if you’re gonna look at me like that every time a guy comes up and claims he’s had me six ways to Sunday, I’ll just take my leave now and damn the consequences or what have you.”

Steve grabbed her duffel out of her hands and held it out of her reach.

“Don’t be like that, I’m not good with this… I’m not good with women.” He exhaled as she paused in her reaching for the bag. Her hands fell to her sides and she stared up at him before snorting, clapping her fingers to her mouth.

“Oh Lord, is that not the truth,” she said, a peal of laughter exploding from her lungs. She laughed so hard she had to sit down on the side of the bed, and in another moment she was wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. He tried not to begrudge her, because it was better than her being (rightfully) mad at him for thinking the worst of her. Finally she let out a low sigh and looked up at him, shaking her head. “This day has just been…”

“Terrible,” he finished for her, and then got down on his knee in front of her, taking her hands in his. He held them close together and squeezed gently. “Just don’t like seeing men talk ill of any lady, especially not one as sweet as you, and it makes my head run a little crazy.” He gave her a rueful smile and she nodded and then glanced down at their hands together. She lifted her ring finger a little.

“This is the best, most kindest present anyone’s ever given me, and I keep… messing it up. Throwing it in your face. Acting all kinds of idiot. Can you forgive me?” She chewed on the inside of her cheek, like she really thought he might not accept her apology.

“We’ll figure this out, together, like partners should,” he said and then cleared his throat. “But I would like to know if there’s gonna be more young men showing up on my doorstep challenging me for locking away your heart like I have.”

Darcy had the grace to blush and then shrugged a little.

“Not at this camp?”

He groaned and then laughed, about to pull away when she leaned in and caught him in a kiss. He stopped short at the soft press of her lips on his, and he watched as time slowed down and her lashes fluttered shut.

Darcy’s mouth slanted over his as she moved in closer to him, and he found his hands drawn to her hips. His fingers gripped onto her there, the soft curves of her body hot under the fabric of her dress and he clung to her. The short kisses they’d shared before then had nothing on this, he thought when his brain would let him string more than a few errant words together.

He felt a tremble run through her under his hands and he let go, pulling back so they could both catch their breath. Her lips were kiss-swollen and cherry red. He wanted to catch her lower lip between his teeth, bite down until she whimpered for him.

Steve shoved that thought away as it was anything but gentlemanly.

“Darcy…” he breathed her name out and then caught the side of her face in one large palm, cradling it. “I’m sorry for not being a better husband to you, for thinking the wrong things at times. I can’t say I’ll be perfect, but I promise I’ll try my hardest to do right by you.”

She nodded and then leaned forward to rest her head against his chest for a long minute.

“Guess I better unpack that bag,” she said into the collar of his shirt. “I think I packed more of your stuff than mine, and you’ll not have anything to wear the rest of the week without looking wrinkled as all get out.” She chuffed out a little laugh, but didn’t move. She could stay right against him cuddled into his chest like a kitten, for a little while longer at least he thought. He’d get her another plate of dinner since the first had met it’s end in the mud… but that could wait. For just another minute. Or ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew :D more chapters to come! thank you for all the lovely comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Wheeee <3 Can't wait to post the next chapter! I missed this fic!!!


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